Homefront Warfare
by writtenrhythm
Summary: After surviving the Reaper War, life should have been easy for Kaidan and Shepard. No one could guess that the hardest part was still ahead of them. Their relationship survived the end of a war, but can it survive the loss of a child?
1. Chapter 1

**Homefront Warfare**

 **Guide Us Home.**

* * *

Shepard had known something was wrong when she woke up.

It was a different kind of wrong than she had felt for the past eight months. This wasn't a feeling of nausea, or racing hormones, or any of the hundred changes that came with being pregnant.

Despite having only a few months to grow accustomed to the blooming deep within her body, eventually feeling her daughter shift, turn, and kick within her became as natural as breathing. Shepard even adored the tiny foot-shaped bruises along the bottom of her midriff. Kaidan would stroke and kiss his way around the deep purple blotches as he joked about how strong their baby was – their little fighter.

So when she woke in the early morning and didn't feel the slightest movement within her – not even a flutter – she instinctively knew something was very, very wrong. Mother's intuition wasn't just for mothers who had already given birth.

Despite the gnawing, aching feeling in her chest telling her to panic, she tried to quiet her instincts. She had spent the entire first trimester doing nothing but _panicking_. So many doctors – and Miranda – had told her that she would never have kids that she didn't believe the tests when they came back positive. It seemed far too wonderful to be true. Kaidan had certainly thought so; even though he never voiced his concerns, she could tell he was disappointed that he'd never be a father. Her infertility had been the only thing that gave her pause when he proposed: did he really deserve to be saddled to a woman who could never give him what he so obviously yearned for?

When she could finally convince herself to believe the countless blood tests and ultrasounds, Shepard was terrified that this little bit of hope would be ripped from them. Between the cybernetics, the steel plates, and God knows what all Cerberus had done to her – how the hell could she ever give birth to a healthy child?

But every test the doctors had performed came back absolutely normal. After months of fear after fear coming up unfounded, Shepard had cautiously allowed herself to relax. Even more so, she had allowed herself to get swept up in Kaidan's excitement. They went shopping together and 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the tiny outfits, the toys, the food. They were both dumbstruck at how much _stuff_ it seemed their newborn would need. The sales clerk was more than happy to escort them through aisle after aisle of darling miniaturized items, explaining the purpose behind each one and how absolutely essential it all was. The Asari's commission check was probably large enough to feed a family of three once the parents-to-be had picked up item after item for purchase.

Waking up several times throughout the night had become all too common for her during the past few months as her belly burgeoned outwards. Usually it was easy to pinpoint the cause of her restlessness – a need for the bathroom, an uncomfortable position, a nightmare. Tonight, however, the only thing Shepard felt was an impending sense of _wrong_.

Laying on her back, she rested one hand above her belly and the other below, cradling herself. "Hey little one," she whispered quietly – she didn't want to wake Kaidan, at least not yet. "You still doing okay in there?"

Normally when Shepard would shift her position in bed, the baby would follow suit within moments. The lurch and tumble inside her had been disconcerting when it happened, but the absence of movement was much more worrisome. She stared at the clock across the wall and counted seconds, then minutes, as she waited for some movement from the life within her.

Pursing her lips, she pressed her fingers into her midriff, poking and prodding deeper and deeper until she left bruises on herself. Normally her little girl would begin pushing back. She shook her distended belly quickly as if trying to shake the baby awake – something she would never try if the baby hadn't been protected by layer upon layer of flesh and fluid. For months on end she had experimented with ways to get a response from her belly; she tried each of these now, including faking hiccups. Nothing worked.

Something was _wrong._

Shepard rolled to her side – and waited for the resulting shift, to no avail. Kaidan was sleeping on his back, one arm down by his side and one tossed haphazardly above his head. Her fingers gently brushed against his bare chest as she shook him awake. "Kaidan? Hey, I need you."

His nose twitched first as she prodded him out of a deep sleep. He inhaled deeply, sleepily, before cracking one eye open and looking at her. "''S'up?"

She hesitated as he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Was she just being overcautious, like she had been in the beginning of her pregnancy? "I…um…I'm not feeling anything."

Kaidan peeled his hands away from his face and stared at her with both eyes open. His thick eyebrows knitted together with concern as he woke up and caught on to what she was saying. "From the baby?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Maybe I'm being stupid, but I know the doctors said to pay attention to-"

"Let's go," he interrupted her as he tossed the blankets off of himself and reached for his shoes.

Even though Shepard herself had taken the better part of the early morning hour to convince herself there was no cause for alarm, Kaidan had sprung from the bed, grabbed clothes, and was escorting her from their Citadel apartment in no less than three minutes. Between the light traffic and his frenzied driving, they were at Huerta Memorial in ten.

Shepard had half expected the nurse to roll her eyes when she explained her fears – actually, she was half hoping the nurse _would_ if only to calm the pounding in her own chest – but the nurse had quickly escorted them into the emergency room.

The first doctor came. Then the second. Then the third. Radiographs, ultrasound, x-rays, physical examinations, blood tests, and still no one would tell her what was happening. Still she felt no response from the tiny body within her. Kaidan remained by her side the entire time, holding her hand and murmuring "Everything will be fine," in response to every doctor's "Let me check something else, first…"

Eventually the third doctor returned to the private room they had been moved to somewhere around their third hour in the hospital. The grave look upon his face – evident despite his Salarian features – left Shepard's chest feeling like an empty chasm with no bottom – just endless upon endless amounts of grief.

"I'm so sorry," he said as Shepard gripped Kaidan's hand tightly. "There's no heartbeat."

That moment had been seven hours ago. Once the bad news had been discovered the doctors had scurried into a flutter of activity. They decided to induce labor – only ten days from her actual due date. Kaidan had only left her side once, face streaming with tears, as he placed a call to his mother back on Earth. The only time Shepard had spoken since delivered the news was to say a short, stern "No." when Kaidan asked if she wanted him to call anyone else.

As her body prepared to give birth, the pain escalated until it was blinding, maddening. Shepard refused pain killers, instead welcoming the pain. This was how it was _supposed_ to feel. The pain was her penance to pay for ignoring the signs, for falling asleep last night, for waiting so long to get to the hospital. Only one thought kept the agony from becoming overbearing:

They _had_ to be wrong.

There _had_ to be a heartbeat. The thick layer of flesh and fluid that she had counted on to protect her little angel was simply distorting the doctor's machines: her baby was alive. She just had to prove it to them.

Every hour was unending, unendurable. She wanted the whole ordeal over with, yet she cried at every step of progress because it meant it was nearer to the end.

So when the baby was delivered with a final, excruciating, evacuating push and her ears were met with silence it felt like Shepard's entire world was collapsing once again. The pain was so different than a battle scar: this time, it was her soul that was wounded. The words, "No heartbeat" and "Detached umbilical cord" echoed around the room but she didn't hear them. The sound of her own heart shattering into a million pieces was far too loud.

The traitorous umbilical cord was delivered – the one Shepard had counted on to deliver life to her baby, and the one Kaidan expected to cut on the day of birth – while a teary-eyed Asari nurse swaddled their precious baby into a soft blue blanket and placed her into Shepard's arms.

She was so perfect. A full head of dark brown hair – Kaidan's side of the genetics, no doubt – and beautiful ruby red lips. Ten fingers, ten toes. So peaceful that she could have been sleeping, yet no newborn was ever this still. Shepard cradled her daughter so gently to her chest and kissed her nose, her cheeks, inhaled the scent of her scalp and her belly.

"Wake up," she whispered, so quiet that only Kaidan could hear her. The pain and hollow hope in her voice sent fresh tears cascading down his cheeks. "Wake up. _Please_ wake up. I need you to wake up, baby girl. Wake up!" she pleaded desperately as her own cheeks began to dampen the baby blanket her entire world was swaddled into.

Shepard's voice was high pitched and broke on every third word. She shook the baby in her arms – quickly, desperately. After pleading, and begging, and sobbing into the lifeless body in her arms, realization began to sink in.

"…no…" she whispered, brushing the wet hair off of their daughter's forehead. "No. No, please, no…no. No. _No._ _ **No. NO! God, please, NOOOO!"**_

Her voice collapsed in on itself. It took Kaidan a moment to understand the hollow tone within – it was the last echoes of hope crumpling before him.

Her cradling hands turned into claws around her daughter's corpse, clutching her to her chest. Her quiet pleading turned into wordless, heartbroken screaming. Shepard's mouth fell open as she begged, sobbed, screeched wordlessly. Kaidan grabbed her shoulders, tried to lift her out of the pit of despair she was rapidly drowning into, but she shoved him away. No one could make this better, make this right. No one could give her back her daughter.

Every breath Shepard took ended in a shriek. She had never before cried this hard, this long, or this _desperately_ before. She was no stranger to pain, but the agony of holding the corpse of a child overshadowed and overcame everything else. It was _hours_ before she could take an easy breath, and what felt like days before the tears began to taper off. When she could bare to open her eyes again her gaze landed upon Kaidan. He was crumpled on the side of the hospital bed, crying unabashedly for the child they had both lost.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thanks you for reading this! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I realize this is a very difficult topic to write about, but it's one that is very personal for me. Please keep any comments respectful of the millions of women who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or infancy death. Thank you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Homefront Warefare**

 **Chapter 2: Someday Never Comes**

* * *

The beeping of his omnitool's alarm woke Kaidan the morning of his daughter's funeral. He silenced the bothersome chirping, and then immediately regretted it. At least the alarm made a dent in the suppressive silence of their apartment.

He had slept on the couch last night; the brown fabric kept the imprint of his head. On the table in front of him was the mostly empty bottle of bourbon that had facilitated his sleep. Grunting with disgust and the edges of a hangover, he stashed the bottle somewhere Shepard wouldn't see it. He was fairly certain Shepard hadn't noticed the number of bottles he had worked through in the past week. Even if she had, it didn't matter. Nothing did, anymore.

Kaidan ran his hands through his hair, pulling the ramshackle locks into some semblance of order before heading upstairs to wake his wife.

Shepard looked like she had aged ten years in the last week. Her eyes had gone flat and lifeless, and the skin on her forehead was shiny and wrinkled. Even the color seemed to have drained from her hair; the bright red fury that Shepard seemed infamous for had dulled to an insipid amber, like a flame dying in the middle of the night.

He stood in the doorway of their bedroom and watched her sleep. She didn't doze peacefully; her face was scrunched up as if she resented the brief reprieve from her grieving. Kaidan knew that she felt like she had to punish herself, as if she was somehow responsible for the stillbirth. Kaidan of course didn't blame her, but he was so numbed and paralyzed by his own depression that he had no way of helping Shepard out of her own.

He didn't step forward to wake her up. Instead he pulled her from sleep with the soft call of his voice. He's learned that she doesn't like for him to touch her, now. She had started pulling away from him in the middle of the night, withdrawing impossibly further into herself. It hurt, but if distance is what she needed from him right now he'd gladly give it.

"I'll make breakfast," he offered as she tossed away the blankets with derision.

"I'm not hungry."

She rolled out of the nest of pillows and blankets to get dressed, and he headed downstairs to do…something. They didn't speak the rest of the morning. All the things that needed to be said floated in the silence between them, suffocated by the absent presence of their daughter.

Juliet – named after Kaidan's father, Julius Alenko – had been cremated. The urn was impossibly small, fitting in the palm of Shepard's hand. She couldn't help but compare the weight of the box to the ghost of her baby's weight against her chest. It felt far too light for all of the meaning it contained, as if not all of Juliet made it into the urn. Shepard shuddered with the thought and placed the box back on the platform. She settled for spinning her wedding ring around her finger, hoping no one noticed her fidgeting.

The _Normandy's_ bridge felt too crowded with all of the people gathered around to offer condolences. In truth there were very few people invited, but Shepard still didn't want them here. She wanted to be alone, to fall apart and scream to the heavens and curse and fight and do _anything_ to alleviate the gaping hole in her chest.

The _Normandy_ had been repurposed as the Council's main flagship after _Destiny's Ascension_ had been irreparably damaged in the Reaper war. As part of the council Shepard still had rights to use the ship, though it no longer felt like _her_ ship. But today, with her friends and family gathered around – however unwelcome – the ship felt more like home than it had in a long time.

Joker was still the _Normandy's_ pilot, although their relationship was strained after Edi's death. Tali and Garrus were there as a couple, and Shepard could hear the echo of her friend's sobbing, muffled by the mask she always wore. Liara had inexplicably shown up two days earlier and had pulled Shepard into a long embrace without saying a word. Somehow she had already known.

Wrex and Grunt were in the middle of some tense negotiations on Tuchanka with some of the smaller warring tribes who still dissented Wrex's rule, so the Krogan were absent. Eve, however, had sent a video message filled with the wisdom of a people plagued by genocide, but with the tenderness of a woman who knew how cold a child's corpse felt in a mother's arms.

The remnants of their crew were cast to the far edges of the universe, and hadn't been able to make the trip for a funeral. Kaidan's and Shepard's inbox was full to bursting with messages of support, but Shepard hadn't bothered to open most of them. She allowed Kaidan to handle the logistics of answering messages and informing people. Suffering through meaningless apologies was beyond her patience.

Kaidan had placed the urn in the airlock, nestled onto a soft yellow baby blanket and a few toys that she would never play with. There had been quiet conversation on board the ship, but all fell quiet as their attention turned toward the urn and the grieving parents.

Kaidan cleared his throat needlessly to gather everyone's attention, hoping that the tears he could feel beginning to build would hold off until after the funeral. He swallowed his urge for a drink and began to speak. "I want to thank everyone for coming out today. It means a lot.

"Obviously this is something that no parent wants to go through. The pain is just…unspeakable. There is no way to describe it. You love that purple wrinkled person more than you love anything from the moment you see them. I saw both me and my wife in her – she was perfect. And she was gone. It was like losing myself and Shepard at the same time. But I…but-"

He had only got a few lines into his prepared speech before the pressure of the tears became overwhelming and he was silenced by choking cries. Joker gripped his shoulder tightly with one hand in a show of support and solidarity. A wave of sympathy passed over the crew as he buried his head in his hands and let the sobs work their way out.

Shepard's attention hadn't waned from the small black box even as Kaidan's composure dropped. As if in a trance she began to talk, speaking to her daughter and not to the crowd amassed at her back.

"I never thought I would get pregnant," she said in a voice that was almost a murmur. " _That_ was a miracle I thought I couldn't possibly deserve. And then I found out that you were on your way…and I felt like I was in a dream. And I made you so many promises…I promised I would never hurt you, that I would never make you cry.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't keep those promises. Deep down I still see the woman you could have become – gentle, sweet, optimistic, caring. Now she's gone forever, and I know it's my fault. I'm devastated that I don't wake up with you beside me.

"I will _never_ get over losing you. I carried you around inside of me for months, and planned and dreamed for you. There was so much of this galaxy that I wanted to show you. I know I'll never get that chance." She placed a hand on the edge of the airlock as the tears started to fall. "I know that out there, somewhere, all the friends and family we've lost are waiting to show you the way. So go see all the things I'll never get to experience with you. And when it's my time, I hope that you'll be there to guide me home."

When she finished speaking there wasn't a dry eye left on the bridge. Liara had grabbed hold of Tali's hand as the two of them dissolved into fresh tears. Garrus was emitting a low, gravelly hum that needed no transmitters to understand. Joker's hand slipped from Kaidan's shoulder to wipe his own eyes.

Kaidan moved forward to shut the inner airlock door. The viewing frame in the door still allowed the grieving bunch to see the urn. "Goodbye, baby girl," he whispered as a final farewell before opening the outer airlock. "I love you."

There was a pause while the oxygen was vacuumed out of the air – a slight fluttering of the baby blanket Juliet rested upon – and then the outer door was opened. The urn and the offerings were gone in an instant, sucked out into the vast void of space. The only sound on the ship was the tight, pained gasp from Shepard as her daughter vanished before her. She was left staring at the backdrop of velvet darkness and tiny pinpoints of light that wavered and swam in her tears.

They had scattered their daughter's ashes across the galaxy – the only way they could give her the world and more. "Enjoy the stars, baby girl," Kaidan said as he reached around Shepard's slumped shoulders and shut the airlock door, replacing the scene of dark diamonds with emotionless steel.

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 **Author's note: Comments and reviews are always welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Homefront Warfare**

 **Jameson, Johnny, and Jack**

After the funeral, Shepard had pleaded off more of the food Kaidan had offered with an "I'm tired" before venturing into the downstairs guest room and shutting the door. He had no idea if she had slept or not, but he was too exhausted to wonder.

Ever since then a new normal had come to exist in their apartment; Kaidan still slept in the upstairs master bedroom, Shepard occupied the downstairs guest room, and the ghost of their child haunted everything between them.

Their apartment had become a tomb. All warmth had been sucked into the vacuum of Juliet's room. A month ago Kaidan had approached getting the room packed away, but Shepard had refused him. He didn't want to push her, so the mosaic of children's toys and now useless baby paraphernalia remained sealed behind the bedroom door. Neither he nor Shepard dared venture into Juliet's shrine.

If they did speak to each other it was in short, terse conversations about work or the news or anything else that didn't really matter. Kaidan made sure to cook for her every night, as that was the only way he could make sure she was eating. At first they still dined together, even if they didn't say anything. Eventually, however, Shepard had stated taking her meals in her room. And Kaidan had turned his glass of whiskey a night into a bottle a night habit. Every day they became more like reluctant roommates instead of husband and wife.

Kaidan sighed when he came home from work and saw that the meal he had left out for Shepard was gone from the counter and her bedroom door was shut. He knew she was home, but the gulf that had formed between them since Juliet's funeral felt far too immersive to be crossed tonight.

The months since the funeral had been some of the loneliest in Kaidan's' life – including the years that he had thought Shepard dead. The worst thing in life wasn't being alone, but rather being with a woman that made him feel all alone. Kaidan knew that she was trying to be strong, but strength wasn't what he needed from her. She never let him see her cry, even though he knew she could hardly bring herself to stop. She had shut down, and shut him out. He didn't blame her, but he needed more to hold than a bottle at night.

Kaidan dropped his datapad – filled with essays on biotic biology that he needed to grade before the end of the weekend – onto the kitchen counter. He spread his hands on the cool marble, let his head drop forward, and sighed. He closed his eyes, listening hard. It took a moment, but finally he heard a clunk from the bedroom – the sound of something being sat on a dresser – a sign that Shepard was still alive. He let out the breath he'd been holding and walked away.

Their bar – which had once been properly stocked – was looking far more depleted nowadays. He tried not to think about how much of that was his fault. The whiskey was the first to go, followed quickly by the bourbon and brandy. He still had a few bottles of Earth spirits – namely vodka and gin – mixed in with the alien drinks and cases of shard wine that Shepard seemed to favor. He lifted a bottle of clear alcohol and gave it a sniff, wrinkling his nose at the harsh smell.

He stoppered the bottle, but still held it in his hands. As he leaned against the bar his eyes wandered the dark room, settling on the unlit fireplace. It used to be his favorite part of the apartment. The warm crackle of the fireplace was reminiscent of bonfire's he and his family would have at the orchard, before his powers manifested and he was swept away to brain camp. It made the apartment feel alive, warm, and inviting.

He couldn't remember the last time they had lit a fire. Couldn't remember the last time they had sat in the living room, and just had a damn conversation together.

Actually, he could. It had been in the late months of Shepard's pregnancy. They had laid together on the couch, staring into the warm blaze and just…talking. About everything, and nothing all at the same time. He could almost hear the echoes of her laughter – God, he used to make her laugh – and the feel of their baby churning under his hand, inside her stomach.

A jolt of desire and pain flashed through him so strongly and suddenly it was like he'd been shot. It wasn't just the loss of their child that was killing him, but the loss of intimacy, loss of happiness, loss of…everything.

Now everything they had been, everything they should have had was scattered and burnt to the ground, like the ashes that had yet to be cleared out of the bottom of their fireplace.

 _Screw it_ , he thought to himself. He traded the bottle in his hands for his jacket hanging on the mantle. He need to go to a place that had some _life_ to it.

Kaidan motioned to the bartender for another. The Turian gave him a suspicious look that transcended species barriers. Even Kaidan – in his inebriated state – caught the meaning in his gaze. The Turian was wondering if it was time to cut the biotic off. Any other barkeep would have cut Kaidan off a few drinks back. "C'mon!" Kaidan slurred in an attempt at cajoling the Turian. "Juss gi' me one more. I'm good fo' it."

"Two of whatever he's drinking," a familiar, feminine voice said from behind him. Turning around on the narrow bar stool seemed a bit too much movement for his nervous system to handle, so he waited until the woman saddled up to the bar next to him.

Kaidan recognized Jack by her numerous tattoos rather than her face. "You gonna walk his drunk ass out of here at the end of the night?" the bartender snapped at her.

"I'm gonna walk his ass or kick yours – which would you prefer?" Jack said with minimal heat in her voice as she took the stool next to Kaidan. The Turian poured out two more double whiskeys and slapped them down in front of the pair before striding off towards the end of the bar.

"Better make this one last," Jack told Kaidan. "I got a feeling service is gonna suck here the rest of the night."

Kaidan nodded and raised his glass so it was level with his face. He watched, transfixed, as the ice tumbled in the warm amber liquid. "What're you doin' here?"

"Got a call from one of your students. They were out celebrating a birthday and saw you over here trying to drown yourself." Surprised, Kaidan tried to whip himself around the stool to see if he could spot a group of his students in the crowd. Jack grabbed his shoulder and righted him as he almost crashed to the sticky bar floor. "God dammit, man. I swear if you end up puking on me tonight I will throw your ass off a balcony."

"sSorry," he slurred as he righted himself while miraculously keeping a grip on his drink.

Jack slowly withdrew her hand from his shoulder as if she didn't quite trust him to keep himself upright. Shaking her head, she picked up her own glass and took a deep swallow. "So what's the story? Where's Shepard tonight?"

Surprisingly, Jack had been the one to recruit Kaidan as a professor for Grissom Academy after the war ended. His knee had been badly damaged after the final push to the beacon. He probably could have gotten back up to the Alliance physical requirements, but it would have taken a lot of therapy and more than one surgery. Beyond that, cybernetics and medical care was scarce since the Reapers had demolished damn near every medical hospital left on Earth. Kaidan had enjoyed teaching, so he had taken up Jack's offer and allowed himself to be shuttled out of the military on medical discharge. Shepard, the hero of the galaxy, was allowed to keep her military title – even after she took the Human Councilor position – although her rank was an empty title. She had no military command, but people enjoyed the right to address her as 'Commander Shepard'.

Jack tapped the bar in front of him, bringing him back to the conversation. Kaidan thought about shrugging, but reconsidered as he watched the bottles swim in front of him. "I dunno," he answered Jack's original question. "Think she's at home. Door was shut."

"The door to the apartment? Don't you have a key?"

"No," he shook his head. "The door to her room."

Jack paused for a moment, deciding not to follow that line of questioning. Then she sighed. "Alright, biotic-boy. What's going on with you two?"

Kaidan snorted at the 'biotic-boy' comment – everything was funny to him when he was drunk – then took another sip, splashing a bit of whisky down his chin. "Ah…I dunno," he admitted in a drawling voice. "Since…since Juliet, we haven't…she's shut me out."

Kaidan wasn't laughing anymore as he held the glass in front of him. He was looking at his drink, but his eyes were far away, as if he had forgotten it was in his hand. Jack recognized the look of deeply-seated pain in his eyes.

"Yeah, she misses the rug-rat," Jack said in a tone that was as soft as her voice ever got. "I don't begrudge her the pain."

"No, no, no, I don't either," Kaidan protested. "But…she was _my_ rug-rat too!" He turned to look at Jack, with an over-eager expression that only a drunkard ever wore. "And I…I miss her too! But…I miss Shepard too, too."

Jack frowned at the hand Kaidan had placed on her shoulder. She gave him a look until he removed the offending digit, then she took a sip of her drink. This conversation was way out of her wheel-house, and she knew it.

"So…is this," Jack gestured to Kaidan's inebriated state, "in response to losing your kiddo, or because of the issues between you and Shepard?"

That question required a little more brainpower than Kaidan currently had available to him. He paused, sifting through her words like a computer that took a little too long to power up. "Both…I guess?" he said in an unsure voice. Then he sighed, trying to find a way to explain it to the tattooed woman next to him. "Losing Juliet…it sucks. It sucks _bad_. And Shepard is the only one who understands exactly how that feels…"

"Okay," Jack interrupted. "Then I got a question. Why the hell are you talking to _me_ about this? Go chat up your wife. Last I remember she loved telling people how to deal with their problems."

Kaidan shook his head at Jack's uncharitable representation of Shepard. "I can't…I can't talk ta' Shepard about this kinda stuff. She needs me ta' be strong."

"Well that's bullshit," Jack said and took another long swallow of whiskey. "Shepard doesn't need anyone to be strong for her. Go talk to her. Fight with her if you need to."

"I wish she'd fight with me! You can't fight someone who refuses to get in the ring with you!"

"Then go fuck her," she suggested passively. "I've solved a lot of my problems with hate fucking. Or hate killing, but I'm guessing that's off the table."

Before Kaidan could respond a large Batarian – with facial scars to rival that of Garrus' – walked up behind them. "Okay," he said gruffly. "Time to go."

The Batarian bouncer had evidently been called over by the bartender. The Turian glanced at them with a victorious look from the other end of the bar. Jack rolled her eyes, guiding Kaidan off of his stool. She felt the itch to fight against the Batarian and the self-righteous Turian, but she knew that the bouncer would call over more of his bouncer-friends, and her only backup was looking like he was having trouble locating his feet as he stepped away from the bar. She had no doubt that she would win the fight, but she'd have to do it in front of her students, and that would result in yet another disciplinary session with the academy's principal.

Yeah. Being responsible sucked Varren tits.


	4. Chapter 4

**Homefront Warfare**

 **You Should Go**

Jack deposited Kaidan at the door to his apartment building. The lights of the citadel had long ago dimmed to simulate a night cycle, but there was plenty of light left to see by. They hadn't spoken much on the trip across the strip; Kaidan was too focused on making his feet work the way he wanted them too. By the time they had reached the apartments his stride had evened out some, although his eyes were still slightly glazed.

"Alright," Jack said as Kaidan fumbled in his pocket for his key fob to open the door. "Go sleep it off, biotic-boy."

Kaidan merely grunted, not finding the nickname as amusing as he had earlier that evening. He finally got the sensor to register the fob, and he wrestled with the door to get it to disengage the locks. Then he realized his foot was blocking the path of the door. He stepped out of the way and the door swung open easily.

A headache had started pressing into his temples. It was probably caused by the alcohol, and not his biotic migraines, but the pain was souring his mood. He almost let the door slam shut behind him without saying goodbye to Jack, but she grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey," she said. "I wasn't going to mention this, but…I know what you've got hidden in your office."

He furrowed his brow. What was she talking about? He struggled to think around the fog of alcohol that had settled in his brain. His office? At the academy?

"I was looking for a spare data stick, and I saw it," she continued. He noticed she didn't apologize for rifling through his desk without permission. "Look, I get you're going through a rough time right now, but if administrators find it, you'll be in some hot shit."

"Jack, _what_ are you talking about?"

She rolled her eyes, as if he was being purposefully oblivious. "The bottle of whiskey you've got stashed in your bottom drawer. You know damn well no alcohol is permitted on campus. If a student found it…drunk biotics may be fucking fun, but dangerous. Some idiot would probably spilt themselves in two attempting a Charge after doing shots."

Kaidan felt a cold chill travel down his spine, clearing some of the haze from his mind. He swallowed hard but couldn't find an answer for Jack. She was right: he _had_ known about the 'no alcohol' rule on campus. It was enforced strictly for both students and faculty for the simple reason that drunk biotics were incredibly dangerous. He could have lost his position had anyone other than Jack found the bottle.

And the worst of it was…he didn't even _remember_ leaving a bottle in his desk. Which meant he was drunk when he left it there. He was certain he had never gone in to work drunk – hungover, maybe, but never… Maybe he had forgotten something at the office, and, after a night of drinking, decided to go back and grab it? And left a bottle in his desk. He groaned at his own stupidity, rubbing a hand down his face.

Jack stared at him in a rare moment of concern. "You sure you're okay? There's a big difference between getting sloshed at a bar on a Friday night, and hiding bottles in desk drawers."

"I'm fine," he reassured her. "Thanks for reminding me it's there. It'll be gone soon."

"It better be, you idiot," she said, letting go of the door. "Later, bitch."

And just like that, Jack's caring side was gone and her edgy mask was firmly back in place. She didn't spare another glance back at the apartment building as she swaggered back out onto the strip. For Jack, the night was merely beginning.

Kaidan sighed as the elevator slowly rose higher. The apartment was still empty when he returned. The only difference was the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. Shepard had probably waited until he had left to venture out and tend to her chores. In the distance he saw the bottle he had accidentally left out still sitting on the bar, untouched.

He checked the clock on the wall: twenty-three hundred hours. Late by work-week standards, but not for a weekend. He considered bypassing Shepard's room and heading straight back upstairs, but the thought of spending another night by himself exhausted him. Emboldened by his conversation with Jack and the whisky still running through his veins, he bypassed the stairwell and headed for the back bedroom, knocking lightly.

For a long moment, Kaidan wasn't certain Shepard would open up. He was considering knocking a second time, or simply giving up and heading upstairs, when her soft voice called for him to enter.

Shepard was laying in the bed with her datapad atop the covers. She wore an age-soft N7 tank top that had a hole in the sleeve. "Sorry," Kaidan said sheepishly from the doorframe. "Were you sleeping?"

"No," she answered him. "Just doing some paperwork." Kaidan noticed the alertness in her eyes and the fact that the bedroom lights were on. She wasn't lying, then; he hadn't accidentally awaken her.

As Kaidan pulled stock of the room, Shepard finished her own examination of his state. Her lips pulled down into a frown. "You're drunk," she said with disgust.

Somehow Kaidan missed the disapproval in her voice as he wandered into the room and sat on the edge of her bed. She pulled her legs up into herself, shrinking away from him and the whiskey on his breath. "I went out with Jack," he said, fudging the truth just a hair. He reached for the datapad, curious as to what she was working on, but she quickly pulled the pad away from his reach and set it on the night stand beside her.

"What do you want, Kaidan?" The dismissal in her voice was clear to anyone. This was the first time since Juliet's death that Kaidan had entered the guest bedroom. Shepard's expression made it clear how she resented his presence in her space.

"I just want to talk to you," he answered honestly. "I feel like we haven't just...talked in a while."

"Kaidan…" she sighed. "I'm tired." Her excuse fell flat. He knew she hadn't been tired until he walked through her door.

He shifted closer to her on the bed. "C'mon," he cajoled. "Take a sanity check with me."

"Is that what you call getting so drunk you can't see straight? Just another sanity check?"

He paused at the venom in her voice. She sighed at the hurt expression on his face. "Sorry," she said quietly. "Please…just go. We can talk in the morning."

"You've got a meeting in the morning," he accused her. "The Krogan Expansion vote – it's been all over the extranet recently."

Shepard latched onto this fact. "You're right! Which means you should go. I've got an important day tomorrow."

Kaidan was relentless. "Shepard," he admonished her, pushing himself all the way up the bed so his head brushed the pillow. "We don't have to talk, if you don't want to. I just…I miss you."

He could read the surrender in her voice. "Fine. You can stay. Good night."

Shepard rolled over onto her side, away from him. She touched the lamp on the nightstand and cast the room into semi-darkness; the light on his side of the bed was still burning bright.

Kaidan was quiet for a while, listening to Shepard's breathing and watching her silhouette in the muted light of the bedroom. She was far too still to be asleep, although he could tell she was trying to school her breathing in order to fool him. Her body was tense underneath the covers. It took him a minute to realize his presence was why she was so stressed.

"Shepard, please," he begged her again. "It's been months since we've had a conversation about anything other than work. Ever since Juliet-"

"Don't," she interrupted him suddenly, her voice sharp but also pleading. "Don't bring her up. I can't. Not tonight…"

"Why not tonight?" he pressed her. "Why not yesterday, or tomorrow, or a month ago? When can I talk about my daughter, Shepard? When do I have to stop pretending she never existed?"

She didn't answer. He felt anger start to build inside his chest at her disregard until he heard her sniffling. His heart broke as he realized she was crying. "I'm sorry," he trailed a hand up her arm and pulled her into his chest. Surprisingly, she didn't pull away. She allowed herself to fall back into the cradle of his arms, curling up against his chest. Finally Kaidan had found a crack in the stiff wall she had fabricated around herself.

Her back planed his front as she buried her face into the pillow and tried to stem the tears. He whispered words into her hair that were not as important as the tone in which they were said. His thumb rubbed reassuring circles into her bicep as he pressed a kiss into her hair.

It was the first time since the funeral that Kaidan had been allowed to comfort her – to hold her while she cried. That fact did not escape him as he held her ever tighter.

As her tears began to dry up, some of the rigidness in her body faded away. She melted into his embrace, boneless and pliant. She hummed contentedly when he pressed another kiss to the top of her head.

She shifted against him, her ass rubbing strategically against his groin, as she whimpered low in her throat. "Kaidan," she whispered longingly, turning her head so her hair fell away from her neck.

Instantly another form of tension shot through his body. He froze, making sure he hadn't misinterpreted her intentions, as she shifted again and laid a hand over his.

 _Yes_ , he thought excitedly, scarcely afraid to breath. This. This is what they needed. They needed to be together, to come together as husband and wife. It had been so long… He was instantly hard as he kissed down her neck and stroked her empty stomach.

She groaned his name as he slipped his hand underneath the waistband of her panties. His lips found the sensitive spot just behind her ear as he pressed a warm finger against her folds.

She was bone dry.

"Kaidan!" she repeated louder, and instantly he realized his error. She hadn't been shifting to get _closer_ to him, she'd been trying to get _away_ from him. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I'm sorry!" he started as she jerked away from him and sprang out of the bed. "I thought…"

He hated the way she stared at him as she adjusted her clothes and folder her arms across her chest. "You should go," she told him coldly, glaring with disgust.

"Shepard-"

" _Go._ "

Something in the curtness of her voice made the anger flare up inside him once again. She spoke to him like an underling, a Sergeant berating a Private, and not as a wife speaking to her husband. "No," he snapped at her, just as shortly. He got up from the bed and glared at her from the other side of the room. "We need to talk."

"Fine," she said, picking up a pair of pants and hurriedly pulling them on. " _I'll_ go."

"Damn it, Shepard!" he cursed as he crossed the room and blocked her way to the door. "I've lost my daughter! Don't make me lose my wife, too!"

She stopped short and glared at him. "How _dare_ you," she spat, her voice pure venom. "Don't you dare throw her death at me like that. Don't you dare!"

"I'm sorry-"

"Just go!" she shouted, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him towards the door. "Get out!"

"I'm not leaving here, Shepard!"

"Yes you are!" she insisted.

Kaidan grabbed her hands from his chest and tossed them back at her. "Just talk to me!" he yelled desperately. "Tell me what you want from me!"

"I want you to hate me!" Shepard screamed. Her admission surprised them both, stunning them into silence. Some of the rage inside her expression melted into despair. "I killed your daughter!" she said in a pleading tone. "Juliet is _dead_ because of me! I took her from you! How can you still love someone that-"

"How can you think that?" Kaidan interrupted her. There was a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he struggled to keep up with her confession. She blamed herself for their daughter's death? Is that why she had segregated herself from him – as a punishment? A penance? "Shepard…she didn't die because of you. It wasn't your fault!"

"Just go," she begged him, again guiding him from the room with one hand as the door automatically opened behind him. She stared at him with an indecipherable expression, looking tired and wrung out. "You're so drunk you probably won't even remember this conversation in the morning, anyway." With that last parting shot she shut and locked the door.

But she was wrong; combined with the intense emotion and his biotic metabolism, the alcohol he had drunk was already burning its way out of his system. He was almost completely sober when tears started to fall as he stood, alone, outside of Shepard's room.

It took a few moments, but eventually he noticed that his hands were shaking. He thought about going straight to bed, but his thoughts were whirling too fast through his mind. He needed something to calm his nerves.

He headed back into their bar, picking up the bottle of gin he had turned his nose up at earlier that evening. Standards sufficiently lowered, he picked up the drink and headed upstairs to his bedroom. He let the door slam shut behind him, blocking out the soft sobs he could hear from downstairs.


End file.
